Hidden
by Miss Mairin
Summary: 5 times Canada saw, for whatever purpose, (their reputation? strategic political reasons? embarrassment?) what the other nations kept hidden, and the one time that Canada was noticed instead. [ 5 1 things ]


Sorry that this is kind of jumpy. It switches from nation names to human names during different parts, considering I think they only call each other by human name as a way of affection or saying they're close friends.

* * *

i.

Matthew hummed happily, taking in the beautiful day. Before the world conference started, he had decided that he would go for a walk. He walked the trail, twisting in and out of forest and sunshine, before finally ending up in a cute little park.

Turns out he wasn't the only one outside enjoying the day. The playground was filled with kids, their parents making a weird shaped oval around the playground to watch their kids. There were couples walking together, or sitting on a bench. Runners and cyclists zipped past him often, a few of them smiling at him.

He strolled on the sidewalk around the small lake, watching the ducks and the people interacting with them. Close to the lake, on a bench, there was an old man wearing a hat. He was throwing small chunks of bread to the ducks and the other birds, something out of an old movie. The old man smiled, turning his head slightly to feed the ducks on his far right.

It wasn't an old man.

No, he was Arthur. He had to be Arthur, they looked identical. But what he was doing made no senses to Matthew. He was being extraordinarily nice, not snapping when a duck stole a piece of bread. If anything, he had laughed and continued feeding the birds.

Eventually, Arthur ran out of bread. With a jolt, Matthew realized he had been watching him the entire time. He scolded himself internally, but was incredibly curious about Arthur.

Arthur stood up and dusted the bread crumbs off his pants. He walked away, whistling happy as he walked down the sidewalk. In a split second decision, Matthew followed him; being as stealthy as possible, of course.

Nothing out of the ordinary really happened, they walked for a long time, watching the world go by. Unless, of course, Arthur smiling non-stop and seeming genuinely happy was considered out of the ordinary. Which it was.

The two men watched with amusement as a few children played together, begging their parents for money to get some ice cream. The parents caved and Matthew couldn't help but chuckle: that would be him as a parent. Just as he thought about getting some ice cream for himself - mint chocolate chip - one of the little girls dropped their ice cream, bursting into tears. She cried for a long time, no parent went to console her.

Arthur went up next to her, bending down to her eye level. He spoke softly and gently, talking back and forth with the young girl. Matthew couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he knew that Arthur was actually incredibly good with kids. The point was proven when the little girl slowly stopped crying, only a sniffle here and a hiccup there. She even cracked a smile, taking Arthur's hand as he led her back to the ice cream stand - only a few feet away.

Within minutes, the little girl had more ice cream. She was able to eat the entire cone that time, no tripping or falling at all. Arthur conversed with her for a little longer, before checking his watch and deciding it was time for him to leave. They said goodbye and she hugged him tightly. Arthur completely surprised Matthew (again) when he returned the hug.

Arthur made his way to the world conference, secretly followed by Matthew. It was interesting, almost as if he was conducting a social experiment, watching Arthur interact with people. Everyone smiled at him, he would smile back. For heavens sake, he even bought some girl scout cookies from the girl selling them at the edge of the park. It was almost as if Arthur was a completely different person when he wasn't around the nations. Maybe he tried to hide it with him, for what reason, Matthew didn't know.

They finally, finally made it to the world conference, and Matthew greeted him. Making small talk, they walked towards the elevator and went to the conference room. It must have been a good day - like he didn't know already - because Arthur was calling him by his correct name. They sat next to each other at the world conference, watching the other nations trickle in.

"Can I have some girl scout cookies?" Matthew asked casually, gauging the reaction out of the corner of his eyes.

There were three stages to his reaction. First, Arthur looked confused. Second, he realized what was being mentioned. Third, he blushed and immediately denied it, spluttering different excuses and refusing to meet Matthew's eyes.

"I won't tell anyone, don't worry," Matthew smiled gently, reassuring his friend. He leaned back in the chair and stretched, glancing over at Arthur. "Seriously though, can I have some?"

"You sound like your brother," Arthur grumbled, nose scrunching up in annoyance. Matthew laughed. He did, however, shuffle through his briefcase secretly. He continued to grumble, a polar opposite to what Matthew had just seen, as he dished out the cookies. "Consider this a bribe."

Matthew raised his eyebrows dramatically, before chuckling and nodding. There was only time to eat one cookie before Alfred stormed over to them, demanding for some cookies. Matthew snorted, "You have the nose of a dog when it comes to food."

"Wait, wait, wait, are these girl scout cookies?" Alfred asked, incredulous, before gobbling several of them down. "Mmm, yeah, these are girl scout cookies. The real deal, thin mints. Did you buy these, Arthur?"

Arthur frowned, glancing sideways at Matthew, seemingly asking for help. Matthew broke in, "Nah, I bought them, but gave him the box."

Alfred considered this.

"Yeah, you're right," he laughed, still eating a bunch of cookies. He gave Arthur a once-over, smiling and shaking his head to himself. "Arthur definitely couldn't buy girl scout cookies without getting pissed off at the girls selling them. He'd probably get in a fight with the dads and everything."

Matthew just laughed, finding the entire situation incredibly funny. It made it even better (or worse?) when Arthur scowled and smacked Alfred, grumbling something defensively. They shooed Alfred away, saying how he was going to eat all the cookies he didn't even buy. He grudgingly obeyed, probably since it was his brother saying something as well.

The meeting started, and Arthur glanced at Matthew momentarily with a wary smile. Nothing was said, but Matthew knew that there was gratitude in that expression. He also knew Arthur couldn't actually say thank you, so it was enough just to see that type of smile on his friend's face.

ii.

Canada smiled happily, stretching his arms above his head as he took in the beautiful day. Strolling along the sidewalk of a small city near Spain's house, he deeply inhaled, enjoying the scent of the sunny, warm day. His nose scrunched up in mild disgust at the smell of some type of animal. In curiosity, Canada looked around and followed the smell to a fairly big petting zoo.

Without much thought, he wandered up to the entrance of the zoo. Even though it was free, most likely for all the kids, it did ask for a donation. Being incredibly kind, and maybe a bit of an animal lover (okay, maybe a lot), he donated generously as he walked past the gated entrance.

Walking towards the area with the goats, Canada thought about the fact that he wasn't really surprised to see a petting zoo near Spain's home - everyone knew Antonio was sweet on things that were cute. His train of thought about cute things, though not extremely important, was quickly derailed when he saw Russia in the middle of the pen containing the goats.

Russia...

At a petting zoo?

Canada shook his head and rubbed his eyes, though it was futile. When he looked once again, it definitely was Russia, but that wasn't the weirdest part. All of the goats had apparently taken a liking to him: they flocked to him, licking him all over and attacking him with kisses.

The way Russia pet the small animals, it was almost as if the nation was a completely different person. He was petting them gently, eyes sparkling with glee. When one of the goats tripped, Russia was immediately at the animal's side, comforting it with a soft voice and gentle hands.

Watching the nation carefully, Canada couldn't help but smile. Russia mournfully said goodbye to the goats, only to wander over to the sheep pen, being attacked as if he had come back from war to his favorite pet. A loud, irritated grumble interrupted Russia's petting. He glanced up, eyes searching until they fell on a small boy, who was watching him with jealousy.

Smiling gently, the nation stood and shuffled over to the child. He held his hand out carefully, still smiling as the young boy glared at him with suspicion. The boy looked up at his older sister for permission. When she nodded her agreement, they both grinned as they held hands momentarily. Russia pulled lightly on the boy's arm, guiding him into the sheep pen where they had all gathered patiently. The small boy gasped with delight, letting go of Russia's hand to have both free to pet as many sheep as possible.

Canada watched the scene with some variation of affection. It was incredibly cute, almost impossibly so. He had never seen Russia be so... kind and gentle. In its own way, it was kind of moving to watch.

A squeal brought his eyes back to the small boy. The boy was jumping up and down in excitment, an intense amount of noises coming from him as the sheep licked his face, giving him the type of kisses that only animals can give. The boy looked up to Russia, smiling wide, any trace of previous anger or jealousy completely gone. He wiped his face with his sleeve to get rid of the animal saliva and tapped the man on the arm.

"Thank you, mister!" The kid announced happily, petting the sheep. He rubbed his face into the soft fluff, looking up at the man again with obvious appreciation.

"Nyet, it was no problem," Russia explained to the child, his accent extremely apparent. He patted the young boy on the head affectionately as they both gave the sheep their precious attention. He bent down, smiling softly and whispered conspiratorially, "The sheep told me that they wanted you to pet them, I was just the messenger."

Canada giggled at the sight and the conversation, watching with fondness. Not only was Russia apparently excellent with animals, he interacted brilliantly with children. The young boy laughed giddily and pet the sheep in front of him once more, mumbling some type of caring words. The odd pair gently combed through the sheep's wool, picking and undoing any knots they come across.

Russia smiled once more - he was doing a lot of that, Canada noted - and turned around to move on to the next set of animals. Before he could get far, the child ran into him and hugged him from behind, burying his face into the nation's back.

Canada was sure the child would've been yelled at. Probably for touching the man without warning, or nearly knocking them onto the ground. Yet, nothing of the sort happened. It was actually the opposite.

From his position outside of the pen, Canada could distinctly tell that the other man was blushing. It definitely surprised him, that even Russia could blush, but the red coloring his cheeks didn't really look out of place. In fact, it kind of suited him. Canada briefly thought what would happen if someone told Russia that he was cute when he was blushing. The thought-up situation was silly and ridiculous enough for him to dissolve into giggles.

Recognizing the giggles - how, he didn't really know: people didn't really pay attention to him - Russia looked up in curiosity and glanced around. Canada quickly hid his face and turned around, hoping to not be noticed. It was kind of amusing how he was usually wishing to be noticed, but now he hoped for the exact opposite. Who knows what Russia would do if his secret kindness became not-so-secret anymore?

A few nerve-wracking moments later, Canada took a deep breath and turned around slowly. He carefully observed the area, his eyes landing on Russia. The other nation had moved and was comfortably sitting down on a hay bale within the donkey area, smiling with warmth at the animals. He leaned forward, stretching his arm out and gently stroked one of the donkey's necks.

Canada watched him once again as he crossed his arms and sighed in contentment. One would think watching Russia petting different animals wouldn't be this peaceful, but it was. Russia's happiness was rubbing off on Canada, and he couldn't help but smile.

In a sudden jolt of comprehension, he realized that he was most likely the only nation that had ever seen Russia the way he currently was.

Maybe Russia wasn't as scary as everyone actually thought. Maybe he was just incredibly misunderstood. Either way, Canada would be keeping the new side of Russia to himself. It gave him a thrill knowing that he knew something no one else did. It made him feel special, that there was a part of Russia that no one had noticed.

Except him.

iii.

"Hello, Mathieu, I am so glad you were able to come," France announced, ushering Canada into his newest townhouse on the outskirts of Bretagne. They leaned into each other, quickly kissing each other on the cheek in greeting.

"Thank you for having me, Francis. I brought you this for tonight," Matthew replied politely, and presented the wine to Francis who gratefully took it.

Francis looked at the wine's label and smiled appreciatively. Glancing back up, he commented, "This sounds delicious, it will be amazing for the meal. You always know how to choose your wine."

"I learned it from you, Papa," Matthew chuckled, blushing at the compliment. As the two made their way further into the house, he glanced around at the new furniture and decorations. Matthew loyally followed Francis into the kitchen, gasping at the size and the various appliances. He breathed out in awe, "Wow. This is amazing."

"Isn't it?" Francis laughed, putting down the wine in a small cooler. He turned back around to face his friend, leaning back on the countertop. Gesturing to the entire kitchen, he confessed, "I had them make the kitchen the best room in the house. I'm France, after all, I have to be able to cook!"

"Speaking of cooking, have you started dinner?" Matthew asked innocently, but was thwarted by his stomach growling. Looking down at his stomach, he frowned and complained, "That wasn't very polite of you, stomach."

Francis laughed, a booming laugh echoing off the walls of the kitchen. Wandering to the refrigerator, he opened it and pulled out the ingredients to set them on the counter. He put a pot onto the stove and turned it on, dumping water in and waited for it to boil. Turning back around to Matthew, he smiled and offered, "Now I have."

When Matthew rolled his eyes and frowned, Francis laughed again and went to pat him on the shoulder. He pointed towards the ingredients and explained, "It won't take long, I promise."

"I hope not; I'm really hungry. I've been looking forward to Papa's cooking for the past month. Al keeps trying to make me eat hamburgers," Matthew whined, his face scrunched up in disgust. "Oh, while you're cooking, I'm going to go to the restroom."

"Alright," Francis agreed, turning back to pay attention to the food. In mild worry, he called over his shoulder, "Will you be okay? You don't know where it is."

"I'll find it eventually, Papa, don't worry," he assured easily, and walked out of the kitchen into the hallway. Walking down the hallway, he opened door after door, but to no avail. More to himself than anything, he muttered, "I'll find it even if I have to open every door."

As Matthew neared the end of the hallway, with only two doors left, he groaned in annoyance. If neither of the two doors were a bathroom, he would have to circle back and go upstairs. Or, god forbid, ask Francis to tell him. With fingers crossed, he slowly turned the doorknob and dramatically flung the door opened. At first glance, it definitely wasn't a bathroom.

What it was, however, was France's office. The two hardly ever talked politics to each other, only gossip or topics like food, so the office was extraordinarily interesting. Matthew told himself that he really shouldn't be doing this, but he found his feet stepping inside anyway, completely overwhelmed with curiosity.

His bare feet were tickled by the soft carpet, and he held back a giggle as he walked towards the desk. There was an open laptop placed in the middle of the desk, which wasn't weird on its own, but there were books strewn all over the desk as well. Francis didn't read books besides romance novels, or so he thought. Surprised, and intrigued, Matthew read the titles to himself:

American English vs. Traditional English

Japanese for Dummies

Top Ten Tourist Areas in Italy

Stereotypes That Are Actually True

For a very frightening second, he had no idea what was doing on. Then it hit him: France was actually trying to learn stuff about other nations. Everyone always thought Francis was stubborn and hated culture besides his own, but apparently they were wrong.

Stumbling slightly, Matthew cursed as he accidentally nudged the mouse for the laptop. He watched carefully as the computer woke up, picking back up where it left off, without even a passcode. Even though it was wrong, even though it was a bad idea, and even though he willed himself not to look at the laptop…

He looked at the laptop.

The laptop was on an internet page. The Rosetta Stone website, no less: Francis was learning English. Matthew smiled, and briefly wondered if his Papa was learning English for Arthur and Alfred, or just because it was a popular language.

Of course, he should stop there. This was snooping, and it was incredibly rude. Plus, Francis would know something was up: Matthew had been gone for quite a while. He should stop, and he should leave, but what did he do?

He stayed right in the office and looked around more.

As Matthew's eyes scanned the room, an area covered in different colored sticky notes caught his attention. He walked towards the wall, realizing that the sticky notes had writing on them. To be more specific, the writing were facts about the nations.

Mathieu's birthday - July 1st

Alfred's birthday - July 4th

Feliciano's birthday - March 17th

Mathieu loves ice cream; his bear is Kumajiro (why can no one ever remember that?)

Remember to check up on Arthur on the fourth of July

Reminder 1: don't touch China's Hello Kitty

Reminder 2: don't call Alfred fat. ever. even as a joke.

Francis' voice calling for him jolted him out of his readings, and he looked around anxiously. Making sure everything was the way it had been, Matthew left the office and went back to the kitchen.

"Did you find it okay?" Francis asked nicely, finishing up the last touches to their meal. When Matthew shook his head, he laughed and said, "It was the last door, down the hallway."

"That was the only one I didn't check," Matthew muttered to himself. Instead, he shook his head again and went to sit down at the table, ready to eat. When Francis gave him a weird look, he explained, "I'll just go after we eat, I'm still hungry."

"Okay!" he agreed happily, and set down a plate in front of his guest. Francis put a plate of his own in front of himself and announced, "Bon appetit, Mathieu! I hope you enjoy, I tried to make it to your taste."

Nodding in thanks, Matthew took a bite of his meal and went to heaven. He looked up, eyes wide and marveled, "This is so good, Papa. How did you know I would like this?"

"Just a feeling," Francis explained, smiling at his friend. In reality, he had always watched what Matthew would order at restaurants, and tried to understand his tastes. He took a bite of his own food and grinned in pride, it did taste pretty good, though the having the enormous kitchen probably helped. Just a little.

"Well, thank you, Papa," Matthew offered with a shy smile, and continued eating. They sat in comfortable silence, eating their delicious meal when he broke the silence once again, "This was all very thoughtful of you. I appreciate you going through all this trouble."

"Oh, it wasn't any trouble at all! I just wanted to serve dinner to my favorite person," he said, beaming in both happiness and pride. Francis took a big bite of his meal, trying to will away the blush on his face. People usually didn't think he ever tried hard, so what Matthew had said was quite a big deal.

Of course, Francis would never willingly tell people he tried. Matthew knew that as well. But he knew something else, too: Matthew knew about the sticky notes, the books, and learning English. He would never tell anyone, but he would take Francis for granted less often. He would also appreciate his Papa much, much more.

After all, Francis was trying hard to remember the little things about him, while everyone else hardly remembered he existed.

iv.

Matthew wandered around the giant campus virtually unnoticed, which was probably a good thing considering that he didn't have a university ID. He was technically lost, but it wasn't a big deal, considering his brother didn't get out of his class for another half hour. It couldn't hurt to sight-see, especially at a university so prestigious.

Despite the fact Alfred had specifically told him where and when for them to meet, he still felt somewhat uneasy. So, when his brother called him to tell Matthew to meet him at Building E18 at Massachusetts Institute of Technology - MIT. Yes, that MIT. - he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. But when he asked his brother to repeat what he had just said, Alfred had indeed said MIT.

It wasn't a huge deal, not at all; the surprise had only thrown him off a little bit. Matthew thought he knew his brother well enough: he knew that Alfred fidgeted a lot, that he wanted to go on many adventures.

Yes, it was a surprise, but the more he thought about it as he still wandered around, the more it made sense. Alfred had always wanted to be an astronaut himself, not just his citizens, ever since his rivalry against Russia. Maybe he had signed up to try and be an astronaut; heavens knows that Alfred can do anything if he wanted to.

It made sense, Matthew thought to himself, that he was taking classes at MIT in order to train to be an astronaut. In fact, he was surprised Alfred hadn't tried to become an astronaut earlier. Alfred also understood technology really well; the leading university of technology would definitely be a good choice for him.

Matthew looked around. He had definitely seen this area before. Well, he reasoned to himself as he walked towards one of those you-are-here maps, at least it was a pretty day, if at the very least, a little hot. Easily locating Building E18 on the map, he glanced down at the explanation: Mathematics Department. Huh. Matthew shook his head and resigned himself to being confused until he actually spoke with his brother.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he realized there was still over fifteen minutes until class let out. He was sure more time had passed, but apparently not. According to the map, he was only a few minutes away from the building he was supposed to meet with his brother. He strolled over to the building, peeking through the doors at an empty corridor, the only person being the secretary at the front desk.

Ugh, if he waited here, he would be trampled by people trying to leave. Curiously, he walked around the building, noticing there were several doors leading into the building. He walked up to one of them, leaning on the wall next to it, briefly noticing there wasn't anyone at all. Playing on his phone, he still had several minutes to go.

At that exact moment, a breeze - no, it's not a breeze if it's hot, is it? - of hot air blew right into him, and the sun suddenly seemed like it was trying to bake him. Matthew was definitely not used to the heat; he was Canada after all, known for the cold tundras. It didn't really help that he was wearing jeans and a long sleeve t shirt. Sighing, and grumbling about sunburns, he ducked into the math building. Still empty, though he had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be noticed if he didn't want to be.

Okay, so Alfred had said Building E18 at MIT. Check. But the building was the size of a mansion, there were so many places for them to meet. Matthew thought back to the conversation they had on the phone the day prior, and concentrated. Had he said something about which classroom? Maybe he did, after all, Matthew had been distracted several times during that call. Kuma had tried to scratch him in order for more food, even if he had already been fed. He looked at his phone randomly, opening Alfred's contact details. Though he couldn't listen to their call, maybe looking at the contact would open his memory.

Turns out, he was right. After glancing at Alfred's cell phone number, the number of the classroom came to him. Smiling triumphantly to himself, he wandered to the classroom number successfully, prepared to lean on the wall and wait for his brother. The back of his mind registered that the door was open, unlike most of the other rooms.

Everything was normal until he heard his brother's voice, though he couldn't really decipher the words, he knew the person could only be Alfred. The first time, he shrugged it off; maybe he had been answering a question or something like that. The second time, he was curious. The third time? Well, that changed things a bit.

He peeked inside, knowing no one would see him if their attention was on the professor. Scanning the room - though it was more like a huge lecture area, several rows of many seats - for Alfred, he frowned when he couldn't see him. Usually it was easy to locate him in the crowd, so what was different?

Alfred's voice echoed the area, and Matthew's eyes drifted to the professor. That was what was different: he wasn't in the crowd, he was the professor. Dumbfounded and also incredibly interesting, he quietly slipped into the closest available chair. He leaned forward, a hand on his chin, and watched his brother teach an MIT class.

"... theorem provides conditions under which an operator or a matrix can be diagonalized," Alfred paused there, eyes sweeping over the class in the way only teachers can do. He continued, explaining his previous statement, "That is to say, represented as a diagonal matrix in some basis."

Matthew smiled, listening every once in a while as his brother explained something, or answered a question. Really, there wasn't a point to him listening besides just to hear his voice. Everything Alfred had been saying went right over Matthew's head.

The class rustled slightly, papers being mixed up, someone coughed. Alfred glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, nodding as he finished up his lecture. "I guess we'll end there for today, though the Spectral theorem hasn't been explained in full yet. Remember to keep up with your reading in your Introduction to Functional Analysis textbook. Have a good day!"

The rustling escalated unsurprisingly, people stuffing papers and laptops into their backpacks, chattering with someone next to him. Everyone trickled out slowly, Alfred looking at something on his desk. Once everyone was gone, Matthew raised his hand and called out, "I have a question, professor!"

Alfred looked up, obviously startled. It didn't take long for the two to lock eyes and grin at each other. Alfred fake organized his papers, nodding and answered, "What can I do for you, Mr. Williams?"

"Well, I wanted to know why you never told me you were a professor," Matthew announced, walking down the steps to meet his brother. He paused conspiratorially and continued, "At MIT, no less."

Alfred slung an arm around his brother, pulling him into a hug. They walked out of the lecture room together, and he hummed in concentration. "Honestly? I didn't think you'd believe me. Everyone thinks I'm an idiot, they would have all said I was lying."

"Well, you are an idiot," he replied easily, "Only about some things, though. I wouldn't have been too surprised. Maybe a little bit, but I would've gotten over it soon enough."

They wandered around the campus again, this time without Alfred's arm. Matthew looked up, and asked, "What exactly do you teach?"

"A lot of things," Alfred answered, smiling at his brother. "But the class you were just in was Introduction to Functional Analysis."

"Well, yeah, I figured that out when you told them to read the textbook," Matthew said, scrunching his nose. Alfred only laughed. Subconsciously, Matthew felt proud of his brother. As they were making their way to some sort of restaurant, he wondered, "Am I the only one who knows?"

Alfred stopped in his tracks, a some sort of sad smile on his face, yet the smile held something akin to hope. He ruffled Matthew's hair, tilting his head slightly, and simply said, "Yup."

v.

Canada twiddled his thumbs together in impatience. The world conference had, yet again, taken a break and they hadn't gotten anything done. If nothing would be accomplished, why was he forced to go to every single one of them? He just wished the meeting would start again, and maybe it wouldn't be a total waste of time for them all.

It turned out that, although the meeting didn't start, it wasn't a total waste of time. When breaks like these happened, Canada tended to soothe his boredom by watching the other nations. Of course, they didn't know they were being watched, so it was easier to see what others didn't.

A commotion coming from his right caught his attention, and he turned in his seat to see what was happening. Apparently, Italy Veneziano had interrupted his brother who had been speaking (quite politely, which was rare) to Spain.

"Brother! Look what I made for you!" Veneziano announced happily, smiling at both nations. He held out a piece of paper to Romano, it looked like a pencil sketch of the two brothers together. Even from his seat at the table, Canada knew instantly that it was incredibly well made. Perhaps that was what made Romano angry: everyone knew, or at the very least suspected, that he was insecure and slightly jealous of his brother, and how talented he was at making art.

Canada watched the two nations carefully, intrigued to see how the interaction would progress. Veneziano seemed to be beaming, hopeful that his brother would be happy about the drawing. Unfortunately, he noted that Romano was actually angry, not the type of angry he was with Spain or the German brothers. The moment Canada realized that, he knew nothing good would come out of it.

He was right.

Romano's hand darted out, grabbing the piece of paper. In the split second before anything could happen, Veneziano was delighted that his brother had actually taken his drawing; but that split second ended when the paper was ripped into shreds and threw onto the ground.

"I don't want it," Romano snapped, turning away. Spain was right in the middle, horrified, and Canada sympathized with him. The nations that had been watching were sure Veneziano would cry to Germany, or something along those lines, but nothing happened.

He just laughed.

"That's okay, brother!" Veneziano laughed it off, picking up the ripped pieces from the floor. He turned to leave, with no signs of tears. "I'll just make another one for you! You'll love it!"

Canada sat there, stunned. He was sure Veneziano would start crying, but he didn't. For a few moments, he wondered if it was all an act, but there wasn't any way to actually tell. No one went after him, either, so maybe Veneziano actually was okay. Leaning over to the nation next to him, Canada whispered, "You think the meeting will start again any time soon?"

Poland jumped, startled by the sudden voice. Turning, he recognized Canada and shook his head. "I totally, like, doubt it. Everyone is just not feeling it today, I guess."

"Hmm, okay," Canada mumbled, pushing himself to a standing position. It would probably kill some time to go to the restroom and splash some water on his face. There was no point in sitting still and waiting for the meeting to start again.

He left the room, going unnoticed by everyone, though that wasn't entirely surprising, and wandered around a while before eventually heading to the restroom. Even before he opened the bathroom door, he could hear a muffled sound. Curious, Canada slowly and quietly opened the door and peeked inside.

It was Veneziano: and he was crying. He was crying, that disgusting type of crying with snot coming out of his nose, slumped against the bathroom wall, staring at the ripped pieces of his drawing in his hands. It was surreal, to see someone go from so happy and optimistic to utterly devastated and depressed. It definitely didn't suit Veneziano, Canada decided: he looked much better with a smile on his face.

That thought is probably what prevented him from turning around and pretending he hadn't seen anything. Cautiously, as if not to scare the other nation, Canada walked over to him. He looked down at Veneziano with sympathetic eyes, and cleared his throat to make himself known.

For a split second, his vision went black.

Suddenly, Canada found himself shoved roughly up against the bathroom's tile wall, a hand violently clutching at his throat. He looked around frantically, but what caught his attention wasn't the fact that it was Veneziano who had pushed him up against the wall, but his eyes. They were wild and scared, flashing with specks of anger and fear, before slowly showing recognition.

His eyes went wide, as he realized what he had done. Veneziano let go and slunk away from Canada with his head down. Shyly, he looked back up and rubbed his neck, before apologizing quietly, "Sorry. You scared me."

"No, it's okay," Canada replied softly, "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Don't be! Didn't you know? I'm always scared!" Veneziano joked, trying to keep the mood light, but the other nation wasn't fooled. Canada saw through the act, even as he joked around and tried to seem silly, it was obvious that there was sadness deep in Veneziano's eyes. It was even more evident when he muttered, "At least, that's what everyone else says."

The two nations were quiet for a few moments, avoiding each other's gaze. Neither one knew what to say, or if they even should say anything at all.

"I thought your drawing was amazing," Canada commented, hoping he wasn't treading on thin ice. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring up anything about the drawing or the brothers, but he had to try. If there was any chance to cheer the other man up, he had to at least try.

"I know," Veneziano murmured, lacking any arrogance that would usually come with a reply like that. Tilting his head, he picked at his fingernail in anxiety, before finally gathering to courage to admit, "Everyone says my art is good. Everyone except my brother, and he's the only one I want to hear it from…"

It was terrible, just how heartbroken he sounded. He sniffled and looked away with embarrassment. Canada had always thought Veneziano had a great life: he was funny, handsome, and everyone liked him. In a way, he had always thought Veneziano was kind of like his own brother, Alfred. Romano would have been him, they both knew the woes of being the over-shadowed brother.

But, he supposed, even the people who seemed to be perfect weren't always that way. Maybe even the perfect brothers just wanted the respect from the people they loved most. Canada would have to talk to his brother after this, that much was for sure.

On a whim, he pulled Veneziano into a tight hug and patted his back in comfort. He tried to ignore the fact that the other nation was trembling. Softly, and with great care, Canada whispered, "Brothers can be hurtful sometimes, but you two are still family. He loves you even if you don't think he does. Don't forget that."

"Thank you," Veneziano mumbled into his shoulder, dissolving into tears once more. Sniffling, he spoke again, his voice quavering, "Thank you. I'm sure America loves you, as well."

"He does," Canada smiled, patting his head. They broke apart from the hug, and he ripped off a piece of toilet paper for Veneziano. He accepted gratefully, blowing his nose and drying his tears. Canada watched him with some sort of affection, he had just stumbled into an intimate moment, holding someone while they cried until they felt better. His heart swelled, just a little bit, when he watched Veneziano calm himself down. Clearing his throat, he said, "Splash your face with some water, it'll help the swelling and it'll make you feel better."

"Thank you," he repeated once again, a shy smile on his face. He followed the advice and dried his face off with a paper towel, before turning back to Canada. Biting his lip, he went up and quickly hugged the other nation once more, before admitting, "I'm glad it was you, who found me in here."

"Why?"

"Because…" Veneziano continued with a bright smile, "I trust you. Who knows what you have seen and kept to yourself? You saw me at my worst, but I'm not scared you'll tell anyone. You didn't turn around and use it against me, you helped me instead. So… yeah. I'm glad it was you."

+1

Matthew made his way down the street, walking fast only because he knew his brother would never let it go if he was late. Sure, there was nothing seriously important going on, but Alfred had seemed unusually serious and eager to drink. Matthew supposed he should probably be there with his brother, mostly because he suspected the drinking buddies weren't an option. Rule One about letting his brother drink: Don't leave him alone.

Sighing to himself, he wished Arthur or someone would drink with Alfred, but it seemed everyone was busy these days - either with real issues, or trying to avoid his brother. He briefly wondered what Alfred had done to piss everyone off again, but decided it didn't really matter. When his brother pulled his puppy eyes, it was hard to resist anything that he requested.

"I told you, I don't have any money," a male voice protested.

Alfred really needed to stop picking bars that were in the bad part of town. Though it tended to be true that the best bars actually were in those types of places. Matthew was just tired of coming across people being mugged or hitting on a girl unnecessarily. It seemed like it happened everytime he went drinking with his brother.

Thud. Another thud. A crunch.

"Yeah right! We totally just saw you come out of the bar, you had to have money to buy beer," another male voice sneered, though this voice was noticeably deeper.

Matthew sighed.

Looking around, he quickly located the alleyway where the action was happening. A quick assess of the situation told him that there were six big, ugly guys harassing a young guy who was scared out of his wits. Wonderful.

"Hey, you guys want to stop that?" Matthew called out.

All of the men turned, ugly sneers and grimaces on nearly all of them. Some looked confused, though the expression quickly faded into cruel interest. One of them, the leader, stepped forward and smiled creepily at Matthew, "Nah, though you're pretty cute yourself. Why don't you join the party?"

Matthew thought he heard voices, ones that sounded familiar, footsteps crunching the leaves on the ground. Before he could think more of it, two pair of hands grabbed at him, pushing him towards the leader of the group. Matthew looked up at the man, staring him down. Straightening up to his full height, he proposed sweetly, "I'll join the party if you let that guy go."

They stared at each other, eyes waging war, before the guy sighed exasperatedly. He gestured towards two of the men to release the guy, though they didn't seem too happy about it. The leader snorted, "He wasn't gonna give us the money, anyway. Let's have a party, shall we?"

"Yeah, this will sure be a party," Matthew murmured to himself, watching everyone carefully. They obviously had thought that it would be a piece of cake to take him by force. He wished he had his hockey stick with him - it would not only be easier to kick everyone's ass, but the anger of his favorite hockey team losing the previous night would probably have egged him on as well. A guy started, a split second of movement, and that's all it took.

The two guys holding his shoulders were down in a matter of seconds. Several bites to the hands and then a few kicks to keep them down. The person that had tried to advanced on him, faltered, and that was his mistake. He went down, too.

Three down, three to go.

The leader cussed, lunging towards Matthew, but he wasn't having any of it. A few well placed punches and expertly maneuvered dodges put the ring leader onto the ground.

The remaining two guys looked confused and maybe a bit scared - good, he thought - before looking at each other and shrugging their shoulders, like, oh well. They came at him, but slowly and obviously held back. The only reason they joined the fight was because if they weren't hurt by him, they'd be hurt by the rest of the gang. A fair enough excuse, and to his credit, Matthew didn't punch or kick as hard as he probably could've.

He surveyed the scene and winced despite himself. There were six bodies on the ground, which was definitely not making him feel any better. He rolled his shoulder and groaned, pain shooting up his arm. All of the wounds would heal, and everything else could wait. He had a brother to go see (comfort).

Dusting himself off, he turned to leave, only to see Prussia and Germany. Prussia's mouth was hanging open, like he had just seen the most incredible thing. Germany only looked confused, if a bit tipsy. Everyone was quiet for a moment before Prussia's loud voice breaks the silence.

"Holy shit! You were amazing Matt! Bro, did you see that? That was so awesome! How did you even do that?" Prussia gushed, hopping from foot to foot. He nudged his brother excitedly. All in all, he was fully impressed.

Germany still looked confused, though one of his eyes had twitched when his brother said Matt, like the name had brought up a memory. The name actually was familiar to him, though he couldn't place it for the life of him. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Turning to Prussia, he asked, "Who is this?"

Prussia scoffed and rolled his eyes. He jogs over to Matthew, putting his hands lightly on Matthew's shoulders, almost to show him off. He tried not to blush, especially when Prussia announced, "This is Canada, aka Matthew, and he's only the most badass person ever. You should probably remember him, Ludwig."

"Yeah," Germany agreed, itching his head, "I will."

Matthew couldn't help but laugh. Sure, it was nice that Ludwig was trying to remember him, but it would never actually happen. Matthew turned to leave, before he realized the brothers were going the same way. They easily fell into step with each other.

"Hey, why were you guys even there?"

"Ah, I can answer that," Germany replied, "We were at a different bar, but we got kicked out because we kept complaining that the beer was gross."

"Which it totally was, by the way," Prussia chimed in.

Matthew hummed in response, listening to the brothers talk as they continued to walk. A thought occurs to him. He pulled on Prussia's shirt to get his attention, and once he had it, he asked shyly, "You won't tell anyone, right?"

"Hell no, I won't," Prussia scoffed, rolling his eyes again, "That was totally badass and I want to be the only one who knows."

Matthew smiled, and nudged Prussia with his shoulder affectionately. He looked at Prussia, who was smiling like a dork, and whispered, "Thanks."

~end~


End file.
